


Beginning in Bariloche

by AVegetarianCannibal



Series: Slice of Life [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Dog adoption, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Murder Husbands, Original Character(s), Seduction, Veterinary Medicine, attempted kitchen sex, sheep farming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Will continues trying to seduce Hannibal as they settle down in Argentina. Hannibal continues letting him. Along the way, they make new friends and take up new careers. Also, there's a dog. Of course.





	Beginning in Bariloche

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shukkhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukkhy/gifts).



> You don't necessarily _have_ to read the previous installments of this series, but it'd probably help. Most scene ideas herein were suggested by Shukkhy over on Tumblr. Thank you, dear!

## The Ongoing Seduction of Hannibal Lecter is Ongoing

They pay for a year-long lease on the cabin in Bariloche entirely unseen except for pictures the agent sent them. Will sees the kitchen for the first time, and sees it through Hannibal's eyes.

"It's... a bit...  _small_."

He imagines trying to construct an elaborate meal under such constraints. This leads him to imagining Hannibal in that little white apron likes to wear... the way it opens in the back so tantalizingly.

"The kitchen is adequate," Hannibal says. "We can move the table into the dining room and procure an island to give me more work space."

"Keep the table and forget the island for now," Will says.

Hannibal busies himself testing the cupboard doors to make sure they hang straight. "You have strong feelings about kitchen islands?"

"They're too high," Will says.

"Too high for wha---" Hannibal glances back at him.

Will, having pushed his pants down around his ankles, hops up onto the table. "For this. Come here, help me christen this thing."

Hannibal clucks his tongue at him. "Will. I have a strict policy against having sex on the kitchen table."

Will blinks about fifty times before he even processes that. "Since when?"

"Since now," Hannibal says. "Look how porous that wood is. Your bare anus has no business being on that unvarnished surface."

Will is offended down to his very core. "My bare---my bare---!" He's so offended he can't even _speak_ properly.

A plot begins to formulate in the deepest, darkest, horniest corners of his mind.

***

He wonders if perhaps he's not leaving enough to the imagination. Perhaps just flopping himself up onto the table with his _bare anus_ was too obvious. Or... something. He purchases a wardrobe of shorts constructed of decreasing amounts of fabric. He figures he'll work his way down the scale until he gets what he wants.

The first pair is knee-length and made of white linen, which he dons without underwear. He leaves the drawstring tied loosely enough that the waistband sits dangerously low on his hips, dipping low in front to reveal the start of his ample pubic hair. He's wearing these when he saunters into the kitchen one evening where Hannibal is chopping potatoes for soup.

"Mm smells good," Will says.

"I haven't started cooking yet," Hannibal says, not looking up from his cutting board.

"I wasn't talking about the food," Will says.

He slinks up behind Hannibal and nuzzles the back of his neck. He wraps his arms around Hannibal's waist and rubs his already growing erection against that perky little ass.

"Will, not while I'm cooking."

"You haven't started cooking yet," Will repeats, in Hannibal's exact tone of voice. "C'mon, at least _leer_ at me a little. Make a fella feel wanted."

He backs up against the table and strikes a pose that he hopes looks like more sultry than ridiculous.

Hannibal glances back at him, and Will can practically feel his gaze raking over his body, lingering over the slight indent of his pelvic muscles.

" _Oh_ ," Hannibal says in an appreciative tone as his eyes go dark and glassy.

Suddenly there's a clattering as the knife drops to the cutting board and Hannibal hisses softly.

"Did you cut yourself?" Will asks.

"A bit," Hannibal says.

Will swoops in to help, but Hannibal has already wrapped his hand in a tea towel and is elevating it above heart level.

"I'm going to go sterilize and stitch it up," Hannibal says. "I can't risk the use of my hands, as you know."

"Oh, sure," Will says. "Do you need any help?"

Hannibal gives him a peck on the cheek as he breezes past him. "You could peel the rest of the vegetables for the soup and strain the fish stock in the refrigerator."

Will sighs and looks down at the linen shorts. "I can't tell if you failed me, or if you worked a little _too_ well."

***

The next morning, Will tries out a pair of blue jean cut-offs.

They're shorter than the linen pair, and obviously more opaque, but the faded patches on the fabric artfully highlight his balls and his butt cheeks. If this pair doesn't get Hannibal to overlook his silly "no sex on the table" rule, Will doesn't know what he'll do. With one last check in the bathroom mirror to make sure his hair is still rumpled from bed, he heads into the kitchen.

Hannibal's nowhere to be seen, even though breakfast is laid out on the table.

"Hannibal?" Will calls out.

"In here," Hannibal calls back from the utility room. "I spilled bacon drippings on my clothes and thought I should put them in to soak."

"Use that enzyme cleaner stuff," Will says. He picks up a piece of bacon and stuffs into his mouth. "Not that I have to tell _you_ of all people how to treat a stai---"

He almost chokes on his bacon when Hannibal appears in the doorway completely naked. The sudden sight of him without clothes shouldn't still stun him after months together, but it absolutely does. He feels a sense of shock that goes right from his visual cortex to the entire length of his dick. He unzips his shorts and more or less leaps at Hannibal with enough force to send them both stumbling to the floor.

They end up in an awkward combination of a sprawl and a squat, with Hannibal nearly hitting the back of his head on the door frame and Will landing hard on his knees. His left knee hits between Hannibal's thighs, narrowly missing any important bits. He laughs breathlessly into Hannibal's mouth as they kiss. He reaches between them to stroke their cocks together, rough and needy, as hungry for contact as he was the first time they finally fell into bed together. The faintest touch feels like more than his nerves can handle, while clutching at each other until their bones grind together seems like it'll never be enough.

Hannibal somehow manages to get back up onto his feet and pulls Will up with him. Will is so desperate not to lose contact with him for even a moment that he barely notices that he's being pulled across the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom.

Will feels like there's something else he's _supposed_ to be doing, but he's finding it harder and harder to think straight. By the time Hannibal pushes him backwards onto the bed, all coherent thought is basically gone.

Hannibal turns him over onto his belly and nudges his legs apart. Will feels his ass cheeks being parted by Hannibal's thumbs and wriggles to give him better access. A moment later, the tip of Hannibal's tongue is pushing into him. Will pushes back, wanting more, not caring in the least that he's already making the most desperate sounds he's ever heard coming from his own body.

Just when Hannibal seems to be setting up a steady rhythm of licking and sucking and prodding with the combined attention of his lips and tongue, he abruptly stops.

"No!" Will cries out.

"Have patience," Hannibal says, giving him a little pinch on the behind.

He hears Hannibal fumbling through the nightstand drawer and raises up on his elbows to see him pouring and then warming the lubricant in his hands. Such a considerate little gesture, so thoughtful to take those extra little moments...

"Hurry up," Will says.

Hannibal returns to his spot between Will's legs, parts his cheeks again and slips one slick finger inside. The words "bare anus" suddenly flash in Will's memory for some inexplicable reason but the thought is immediately lost as soon as Hannibal presses down against his prostate.

"H-hurry up," he manages to say again, his words slurring. "O-oh, God, please, I-I need..."

Hannibal kisses the small of his back and whispers, "What do you need, Will?"

"Nngh! You!"

"Don't you think I want this as badly as you?" Hannibal asks. He eases a second finger inside and gives a few leisurely strokes. "The sight of you like this, the smell of your desire... Even the way your breath catches every time I touch you inside, _like so_ , is enough to drive me mad."

"Then hurry up and fuck me, already!"

Hannibal just laughs softly and takes his time with a third finger, stroking slowly in and out while his thumb presses against Will's perineum. Will pushes back for more as heedlessly wanton little whimpers escape his lips.

It feels like an eternity before Hannibal finally, finally replaces his fingers with his well-slicked cock. Will's not sure he's felt such intense relief since he realized they'd both survived their plunge into the Atlantic.  Every inch that slides in feels sweeter than the one before it.

If he concentrates, he can hear beyond the rushing blood in his own ears to the shakiness of Hannibal's breaths. He does want this as much as Will does. Of course he does. It's not a fact that surprises Will, and yet knowing and fully understanding their mutual and entirely matched desire brings him to another level of awareness. This time and every time. It's beyond even his uncanny empathy.

He gives up trying to hold himself up on his elbows and slides down until his shoulders push into the mattress. His shoulders that ache even on the best days protest with a bright flare of pain, but he barely cares. Only Hannibal's strong hands gripping his hips hold him up. His cock and balls sway with the force of the pounding he's getting. He drools  onto the sheets and incoherently mutters syllables of Hannibal's name.

Eventually even Hannibal loses the ability to keep him up, and Will sprawls into the mattress with Hannibal still keeping up an insistent rhythm, his breath growing harsher and shakier with every thrust. Will weakly flails out a hand and Hannibal catches it, weaving their fingers together before pinning his palm to the bed.

Will's mouth goes dry. Either he's run out of drool or he's biting the sheets. It's probably the latter, but his head is swimming. The underside of his cock rubs against the bed. He can feel the pre-come leaking out, mingling with his sweat. He feels that telltale buildup of pressure deep inside and doesn't fight it. He comes in pulses of intensifying pleasure, almost too intense to bear. He groans into the mattress as his body tenses and then goes limp. His cock twitches against his belly.

Hannibal spills inside him a moment later, hot volleys of thick wetness that make his last few thrusts even slicker than before. He collapses on top of Will, body trembling, and kisses the back of his neck.

Minutes go by before either of them can move, and then it's only to turn over and fling themselves into a loose embrace. Just as Will drifts off to sleep, he remembers something:

_"God dammit! I was supposed to seduce him on the kitchen table!"_

***

The next morning, he's more determined than ever.

He puts on the final pair of shorts: tiny little lilac-pink things that would strangle his balls if they were any tighter. He even does all the ass prep work himself before he goes downstairs to the kitchen. Now Hannibal won't have any excuse not to do him on the table.

He launches into his prepared speech: "Hannibal, dammit, we're going to---"

But Hannibal is talking at the same time. "There's a dog rescue---"

Will loses his train of thought. "Wait. What did you say?

Hannibal looks him up and down, gaze fixed on the front of Will's tiny shorts. "What did _you_ say?"

"Never mind that for now," Will says. He snaps his fingers, and Hannibal yanks his eyes back up to refocus. "What's this about a dog rescue?"

"About fifteen miles from here," Hannibal says. "There's a woman who raises Merino sheep for wool and takes in the odd stray dog. She put out word to the local farmers and ranchers that she needs to start finding them homes."

Will's heart leaps. "We're finally getting a dog?"

"As I said we would," Hannibal says. "We're settling in nicely here, and I promised we could adopt a small dog."

Will grabs the keys off the peg by the door. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Hannibal gives him an even look. "Will, your genitals are all but bursting through your shorts--- _if_ they can even be called shorts."

He glances down at himself. He'd entirely forgotten his seductively skimpy attire. It wouldn't do at all to meet someone for the first time dressed like this. Or meet anyone at all besides Hannibal. His face burns a little just at the thought.

"I'd better go get changed."

He starts back up the stairs, thinks a moment, then dashes back into the kitchen. He throws himself into Hannibal's arms, gives him a smooch on the lips, then runs to the bedroom to pick out something a _bit_ more appropriate for dog adoptions. 

* * *

 

## Meeting the New Arrival

The farmhouse, barn and wells have all seen better days, but the sheep, Will notes as they drive up through the gates, all look healthy and content. The lambs clamber over rocks and chase one another while the adults of the flock doze in the mid-morning sun. Two collies keep watch from the edges of the flock.

Adriana, the woman who owns the property, meets them on the front porch. She has bright dark eyes and wears her long silver hair in twin braids interwoven with colorful yarn. She also wears a leather holster over her skirt, and tucked into it is a pearl-handled pistol.

"Buenos dias," Hannibal greets her. He introduces himself in Spanish as Oliver and Will as Paul. He explains they've come to see about one of her dogs, but Will is distracted by a small pinto donkey that's nudged his hand for attention.

"That's Bartram," Adriana says. She speaks English, but her accent is neither Argentinian nor American. "Once he realizes you don't have apples, he'll probably wander off."

Sure enough, the donkey saunters away with a snort after Will shows him his pockets are empty.

"We actually have a small orchard," Will says. "But I didn't think to bring anything."

"Maybe if you come back for a second dog," she says, gesturing for them to follow her into the house.

As soon as they go in, half a dozen dogs jump off whatever chairs and sofas they were lounging in. Another half dozen remain curled up by the fire, wagging their tails but regarding the new arrivals with a wary eye.

"You two want some coffee or tea?" Mariana asks.

"Coffee would be lovely," Will says.

"Same for me, if it's not too much trouble," Hannibal adds.

While she's out of the room, Will gets down on the floor to introduce himself to the dogs. Those who'd been napping by the fire get up to check out the situation, too. Only one of them has bypassed Will entirely and is focusing all her attention on Hannibal.

"Which one do you like?" Hannibal asks.

"All of them," Will says, rubbing a floppy gray mutt behind the ears. "I think that one's picked you, though."

She's a little brown and black dachshund mix with soft, folded ears and perhaps a bit of terrier and something else in her parentage. She holds both her paws up to Hannibal as if asking to be picked up.

"I wanted you to pick," Hannibal says, even as he lifts the dog onto his lap.

"Then I pick the one that picked you," Will tells him.

"She's the newest one," Adriana says, returning with a tray of coffee. "Haven't even had a chance to name her yet. She's been shy with everyone until now."

"She's available?” Will asks.

"They all are, except my herding dogs out there," Adriana says. "I almost hate to part with any of them but..."

"Times are hard," Hannibal says.

"And getting harder," she agrees. "You always set out to find 'em homes when you're in rescue, but somehow you usually just end up keeping 'em."

Hannibal casts a knowing smile Will's way.

They visit for nearly an hour, during which time they learn that Adriana is actually from Nova Scotia and had sheep up there, too. Then she came to Argentina with her husband 30 years ago to reclaim some ancestral land and couldn't bring herself to leave after he died.

"Now it's just me and my stepson," she says, "when he's not in Buenos Aires."

Will can't help but notice the hard edge to her voice she tries to hide when she mentions the stepson. He pretends he doesn't hear it.

"Is he in business there?" Will asks.

"Something like that," she says, a touch too brightly. She turns to Hannibal and the little dog currently staring up at in utter devotion. "If you have your heart set on that one, she has a clean bill of health. When she came to me, she had a terrible fever, but a round of antibiotics cleared it up."

"Please add her veterinary bill to the fee for her adoption," Will says.

Adriana scoffs. "No veterinarian," she says. "I treat them all myself, best as I can. If you want, you can reimburse me for the pills."

"Absolutely," Will says.

"I can tell she really likes you," Adriana says. "Especially you, Oliver. I guess you'll get naming privileges?"

"Cephi," Hannibal says without hesitation.

"What an unusual name," Will says, knowing full well what Hannibal means by it.

"After a type of star called a Cepheid variable," Hannibal explains with a small smile.

"Oh, that's pretty," Adriana says.

"It sure is," Will agrees, biting the inside of his cheek before he can laugh.

Later, when they're back on the road, Cephi falls fast asleep in Hannibal's lap as Will drives. The sound of a small dog snoring is as endearing as anything ever that ever existed in all the world. Will reaches over and rubs the dog's ears, then slips his hand into Hannibal's.

"A Cepheid variable, huh?"

Hannibal makes a pleased little humming noise. "Well, I couldn't very well tell her I was naming the dog after _encephalitis_ , now could I?"

* * *

## Dr. Lecter, Veterinary Specialist

Cephi enjoys Will's company and will happily sit with him while he fishes, but she's absolutely _devoted_ to Hannibal. 

This seems to puzzle Hannibal for some reason, who wonders if perhaps he reminds her of a previous person in her life that she loved. "You're not like any other person," Will tells him. "Maybe she loves you just for _you_."

Her favorite thing seems to be watching Hannibal cook. Most any dog enjoys hanging out in the kitchen, hoping for a clumsily dropped bit of cheese or a scrap of meat bestowed as a reward for patience and companionship. But Cephi seems to actually enjoy _studying_ Hannibal, and Will enjoys watching them both.

One night as Hannibal makes stew, Cephi's eyes follow him from the sink to the stove and back again, as if she were committing the recipe to canine memory. Not content with watching from afar, she tries sitting between his feet as he tends the pot.

"We ought to get her an apron, too," Will laughs.

"I'm worried I'll trip over her and hurt her," Hannibal says.

Will pats his lap. "Come on, sweetheart. Come sit with me."

With a backwards glance at Hannibal, she slowly departs for Will's lap with a sprightly leap. As soon as she's situated, Hannibal comes over and gives her a handful of peas, which she sucks up as if they were candy.

"Positive reinforcement," Hannibal explains.

"Yes, I know about raising dogs," Will says.

"I don't," Hannibal says, returning to his cooking. "Not extensively. I've ordered in some books on veterinary medicine."

"Thinking of taking up a new career?" Will asks.

Hannibal shrugs. "Thought it might come in handy for Cephi. I can heal a wide variety of human ailments, but what if she's stricken with bloat? The nearest animal clinic is an hour away."

"Bloat is usually a thing with bigger dogs, but I see your point," Will says. He kisses the top of Cephi's head. "Aren't you a lucky girl? You're going to have your own personal physician!"

Cephi gives a happy bark in reply.

***

Will and Hannibal undertake a few chores for Adriana over the next few weeks. It starts with bringing Cephi over to play with her old friends and somehow evolves into doing work around her farm.

Well, no. Not "somehow."

Very specifically, Hannibal casually mentions that he's a retired veterinarian and Will is a magician of a handyman.

"I apologize for not mentioning my profession when we met," Hannibal tells her. "I retired some years ago and thought those days were behind me, but I find I miss the work."

Adriana's eyes light up, but she quickly schools her excitement. "I don't suppose you'd be up to doing a checkup on the dogs? I can't pay much---"

"I'd welcome to opportunity," Hannibal interrupts. "If you wanted, you could give me a basket of fresh eggs from your hens in exchange."

Just like that, the deal is struck.

While Cephi romps with Bartram and the herding dogs, Hannibal sets off to give exams to the others and Will offers to repair the old well covers.

He's hammering away on slats of repurposed wood when a brand-new Jeep Wrangler skids to a stop beside him, spraying him with gravel and dust. He tightens his grip on the hammer out of reflex.

A man not much younger than he is stumbles out of the Jeep, flagrantly drunk. His waistcoat is buttoned crookedly and the seat of his expensive-looking trousers is torn.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man asks, squinting at him.

"I'm Paul," Will says, slipping the hammer into his toolbelt to extend his hand.

The man looks at Will's hand in disgust, as if he'd been offered a plate of fresh dung. "I don't touch the help," he spits. His expression changes to a leer as he bursts into ugly laughter. "Well, not unless they're young and pretty!"

With that, he stumbles off towards the house.

Will keeps an ear tuned in that direction as he gets back to work on the well. Something about that guy raises the hair on the back of his neck.

***

"Did you meet that asshole?" Will asks as they get into the car that evening. Cephi settles between them in the front seat, exhausted from her day. "Was that the stepson Adriana mentioned?"

"Yes, I did," Hannibal says, pulling the car onto the road. "And yes, he is. Allan Lowell. Come to get more money from his stepmother."

"He reminds me of Mason Verger," Will says. "I think we should kill him."

Hannibal drives in silence for a few moments. "Not because he reminds you of Mason Verger."

Will scoffs. "Of course not. Although that's definitely not a mark in his favor. I can just tell the world needs rid of him."

"This is the first time you've suggested we kill someone," Hannibal says.

"Are you opposed?" Will asks.

"Not at all," Hannibal says, taking his eyes off the road for the merest moment to smile at him. "But we must be certain that Adriana's life would be improved---not worsened---by his absence."

"Fine," Will agrees. "But I'm totally gonna kill that guy."

* * *

 

 

## Sleeping Arrangements

As the months pass, they find themselves falling into a pleasant sort of... well, "routine" has certain negative connotations to it, but Will can't think of another word for it. They cook some meals together, or Hannibal cooks while he and Cephi watch. They furnish their little house and renew the lease well ahead of time for another whole year. Once or twice a week, they put in a hard day's labor at Adriana's farm. They return home hungry for one another, but exhausted, and so make love at a languorous pace until they fall asleep on top of each other.

One afternoon, Will finds Hannibal snoozing on the sofa, a veterinary journal open on his chest, and Cephi passed out on her back between his knees. He laughs at the ridiculous sweetness of it.

Hannibal startles awake. "Oh, I must have drifted off."

"Tell me," Will says. "What would you say if I wanted to take a nap between your legs?"

"I'd tell you you must wait your turn," Hannibal says with a drowsy smile. He shifts around a bit so that he's lying on his side and Cephi is tucked behind his knees. "There's room if you squeeze in."

Will does just that, arranging his legs so that they nestle between Hannibal's without disturbing the dog. Hannibal reaches around to the back of the sofa, pulling down the woolen blanket Adriana wove for them, and tucks it over all three of them as they settle in for a nap.

***

They continue doing odd jobs for Adriana at her farm, always bringing Cephi with them. A few of the other dogs have been adopted out to loving families, and new ones have filtered in. Adriana frets about how she's going to provide for them all. That's when Hannibal connects her with a milliner who owes him several favors, and who buys her Merino wool at a premium.

Will's instincts about the stepson bear out. He owns half the land and has been threatening to sell it if Adriana doesn't keep funding his permanent vacation in Buenos Aires. Even with the new wool sale, there's no way she can afford to buy him out.

"I gave that land to my husband as an anniversary gift," she tells them over coffee one morning. "When the lawyer said he'd left it to Allan, I almost wanted him dead all over again!"

Will, as casually and conversationally as possible, asks, "What happens to Allan's land if..." He lets the question hang and punctuates it with a vague gesture of his hand.

"It reverts back to me," Adriana says. "Or to my niece, since that little bastard's going to outlive me."

"Youth is wasted on the young," Hannibal says to her, then looks at Will.

Will smiles back at him, because he understands: Hannibal agrees with him that Allan needs killing.

***

They don't discuss how they're going to do it. They'll get to that later. It's enough for now that they know they're on the same page. The particulars will be sorted out. Will makes a mental note to remind Hannibal they're not going to eat Allan. He's a foul creature and no decent meal could ever be made of him, even by Hannibal's skilled hands. Perhaps they can feed him to sea lions...

As he starts relaxing into sleep, he curls onto his side and pulls Hannibal up against his belly. This was how they slept on boats when space was precious, and they've both acquired a fondness for it.

He feels a soft thump on the foot of the bed, but he's so tired he can't be bothered to open his eyes.

"Did Cephi just jump up here?" he asks through a yawn.

Hannibal makes an unintelligible string of sounds.

"Huh?"

"I said it couldn't possibly be," Hannibal says, echoing Will's yawn. "She knows she's not allowed on the bed."

Will gathers up every last bit of waking energy he has left and cranes his neck to see for himself.

Cephi has, indeed, jumped up onto the bed, and already made herself into a comfortable little crescent. She gives a deep sigh and looks at him as if to ask permission to stay.

In response, Will just lets his head drop back into his pillow, and falls into one of the best sleeps he's ever had.

* * *

 

 

## Stunning Revelations

The majority of Cephi's care falls to Hannibal, who loves taking her on walks and tending to even the slightest medical need. (When she gets a tiny scratch on her belly jumping over rocks with the lambs, Hannibal leaps into action as if it were a veterinary emergency.) But one of the matters that has been left in Will's hands, much to his initial surprise, is the preparation of her meals. He has to admit he likes being the expert in this one small arena of cooking.

"Perhaps a bit of fennel," Hannibal suggests from his seat at the kitchen table.

"She doesn't need fennel," Will says as he adds the fresh fish to Cephi's stew.

"It's not that anybody _needs_ fennel," Hannibal says. "It's that it goes well with fish."

Will snorts. "Are you going to suggest I add vermouth next?"

"Of course not," Hannibal sniffs. A few moments go by. "Although the alcohol would boil off, it's unsafe to feed a dog anything made with grape-based products. Fennel, on the other hand, is perfectly safe and can even freshen her breath."

"You brush her teeth every day," Will points out. When Hannibal has nothing to say to that, Will relents with a sigh. "If you get fennel at the market next time, I'll put a bit in her stew."

He glances back to see Hannibal sitting there with a small but unmistakably triumphant smile.

***

It's late at night when they get a call from Adriana. She's so upset that she can barely get words out. The only thing either of them understands with certainty is that she needs them to get to the farm right away.

They leave Cephi sleeping on the sofa as Hannibal grabs his case of medical supplies. There's a ewe due to give birth to twins and he supposes to Will that she may be having a difficult labor.

When they drive up and see Adriana sitting on the porch's front steps, it's clear there's no medical emergency. Or if there was, it's already passed. She looks as though she's been crying, although her eyes are dry now.

"Allan's dead," she says, foregoing any greeting.

Will's so shocked, he almost trips over his own feet. He glances over at Hannibal, who seems as calm as ever.

Hannibal sets down his case and sits down beside her. "I'm sorry---"

Adriana holds up a hand. "You know he was an asshole, and so do I. Nobody's going to mourn that miscreant except maybe his bookies and dealers."

Hannibal puts a hand over hers and waits until she's looking at him to say what's next. "I only meant that I'm sorry for any difficulty his passing might bring you."

She pats his hand and laughs. "You know, when the hospital called me, I almost said out loud, 'oh thank God!' I felt so horrible for being so _relieved_."

"'Death is the wish of some, and the relief of many,'" Hannibal says. "A sentiment at least as old as the Roman philosopher Seneca. Don't berate yourself for a natural human reaction, Adriana."

She lets out a great sigh and relaxes visibly. "I don't even know why I called you two. How rude of me to interrupt your evening!"

"We're your friends," Hannibal reassures her. "Please call on us any time."

***

By the time they get home, the sun is already peeking above the horizon and Will is too wired to sleep.

“I still can’t believe that asshole went and got himself killed before we could do it,” he grumbles. “The _nerve_ of some people.”

Hannibal kisses his forehead. “There’ll be another opportunity, eventually. Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll get breakfast ready for us?”

Will goes upstairs and stands under the spray of hot water until he feels all his irritation washing away. Well, most of it, anyway. There’s some residual pissiness when he goes back downstairs. He passes the living room, where Cephi is snoring away on the sofa.

“Did you put some coffee on?” he calls out. “I could really go for—”

The words die on his tongue as he rounds the corner into the kitchen.

Hannibal, stark naked, has spread himself face-down across the tabletop. He wiggles his hips in Will’s general direction. “Breakfast is served.”

Will has to force himself to not go right to him. “Wait a minute. What about your sudden and inexplicable no table-sex rule?”

“I’m suspending it for breakfast,” Hannibal says. He holds up a mini-size bottle of their favorite brand of lube. “Care for a little syrup?”

Will has to decide between holding onto the moral high ground of consistency or getting laid in the kitchen at last, and he finds himself climbing up onto the table before he's even aware he's made the decision.

When he slides a finger inside Hannibal, he finds him already slicked and relaxed. " _Oh_ ," he says in an outward rush of breath.

"I told you I'd get breakfast ready," Hannibal reminds him. "I'm ready, Will."

It's not the most graceful coupling they've ever managed, but Will imagines he'll always count it as one of his favorites, if he has to choose from the embarrassment of riches that is their love life. The table skids halfway across the kitchen floor in loud squeaks from the force of their movements, and Will's knees soon gather splinters from the unvarnished wood. He comes inside Hannibal with a shattering groan, for what feels like eons and instants at the same time, then has him sit up on the edge of the table.

"Still hungry?" Hannibal asks, breathing hard.

Will flops down into the nearest chair and scoots it between Hannibal's parted legs. "Thirsty," he explains, and dips his head forward to take Hannibal's cock into his mouth.

He tries to make it last, wants to tease Hannibal with little licks and the faintest contact of his lips, but he's in a particularly gluttonous mood. He swallows until he feels Hannibal's cockead bumping the back of his throat.

He only pulls back when he feels Hannibal tense up, and only enough to catch the hot spurts of his come on the tip of his tongue. That way, he can taste every hint of salt, bitterness, and sweetness as it runs back over his taste buds.

When he's certain he's caught and swallowed every drop, he lets Hannibal's softening cock slip out of his mouth and drops his forehead to rest against Hannibal's thigh. He feels Hannibal's fingers stroking through his hair, thumb tracing around the shell of his ear.

Will laughs against Hannibal's sweat-glazed skin. "Did you ever _really_ care about not having sex in the kitchen or were you just setting rules to try to make me seduce you again?"

"Perhaps it's my way of seducing _you_ ," Hannibal says.

"Just for future reference," Will tells him, "I'm actually a super easy lay who doesn't need to be seduced."

Hannibal pulls him up onto the table with him and they arrange themselves into a cramped sort of cuddle. It's not exactly comfortable and the angle is killing his worst shoulder, but Will can't bring himself to move just yet.

"Adriana asked me something," Hannibal says after a while. "Before we left, when you'd gone back to the car already."

"Hm? What'd she ask?"

"If we'd consider leasing her property from her," Hannibal says. "She's considering moving in with her sister. Not now, but a year or two from now. Her niece doesn't want to live there. I think she actually wants to give it to us, but didn't want to frighten me with the idea of such a commitment."

That makes Will sit up just a bit. "What did you tell her?"

"I said I'd talk to you," Hannibal says. "What do you think?"

Will grins down at him. "That depends... Do we get all the dogs, too?"

 

 

(the end.... for now!)

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I love and appreciate all comments. If I don't reply, I apologize in advance. I definitely read them, but sometimes I don't know what to say.


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